


Life's No Fun Without A Good Scare

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Bondage, Established Relationship, Ghosts, Halloween, Haunted Houses, Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:24:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur likes having sex in exciting places, and gets off on the thrill of doing something daring. Every Halloween, he and Merlin go to a supposedly haunted location to tempt fate. So far, none of the places have actually been haunted. This year is different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written live in the Merlin chatzy room for Halloween :)

As they make the last turn on their way to their destination and enter a tunnel of trees, Merlin’s arms start to get that tingling feeling. He’s jittery with nerves.

This isn’t the first time they’ve taken a trip to a haunted place to laugh in the face of death—actually, it’s their fourth. But Merlin always gets excited, and, glancing over at Arthur in the driver’s seat, he knows Arthur feels the same.

The vegetation is thick on both sides of the road, even though most of the surrounding area so far has been mostly rolling hills of grass. At this time of year, the leaves are faded red and golden brown and honey orange. Merlin has his passenger window open just a little so he can inhale the sweet smell of decay in the air.

When the stone walls of the castle garden come into view, Merlin leans forward in his seat, as does Arthur.

“There it is,” Arthur announces needlessly. Merlin can hear the smile in his voice, along with a hint of awe.

Arthur stops the car in front of the castle entrance and immediately gets out. As he goes round to the boot to unpack their things, Merlin exits slowly and takes a moment to admire the place.

It’s not the grandest of castles. It’s standard and doesn’t have much decoration; not exactly aesthetically appealing. The windows are square, the stone is turning green is some areas, and the doors are rusty and uninviting.

Merlin thinks that just makes the place even more creepy.

“Come on, _Mer_ lin, I can’t carry all of this myself,” Arthur says behind him. Merlin walks around to join him and picks up his own belongings. Despite Arthur’s protests, it actually is possible for him to carry it all. They haven’t brought much with them, only two bags each.

As they walk up to the structure, Merlin’s heart starts racing again. He cranes his neck back to look at the windows, wondering if he’ll see a face staring back at him. All he sees is old, frosted glass.

The door is no easy obstacle. The hinges are rusted and it takes both of their combined efforts to get it open. Arthur grunts and shoves with a determination Merlin finds both admirable and slightly frightening. Not to be outdone, Merlin pushes just as hard, until finally it gives way with a creak.

After closing the door behind them, Arthur puts his bags down in the main hallway. Merlin follows suit—though he keeps the backpack with candles and blankets over his shoulders—and it’s only then that he takes a good look around at what they’ve just walked into.

There are cobwebs everywhere, and it’s cold enough that he can see his breath. He pulls his beanie down further over his ears and rubs his hands together, then edges a little closer to Arthur for warmth. Arthur wraps a solid arm around his waist and leads him further inside without a word, obviously taking in the setting for himself.

Besides the cold and cobwebs, the other remarkably prevalent feature is artwork. All sorts of sculptures, statues, and paintings from an earlier time line the sides of the corridors and rooms they pass. It gives Merlin a sense of heaviness and he feels as if the engraved eyes follow him, watching as he intrudes upon their domain.

Merlin fights the urge to stand closer to Arthur. It’s not like the place is really haunted anyways. These places never are.

As much as Merlin trusts Arthur, he doesn’t want to get lost, especially not in these bleak rooms. Reluctantly cutting the silence, he says, “Do you know where you’re going?”

Arthur doesn’t respond right away, choosing instead to reach out and touch a golden urn that sits upon a stone pedestal. When he finally looks at Merlin, it’s with that queer light in his eyes that he gets whenever they go places like this.

“The dungeon,” he says firmly. Unlike Merlin’s almost-whisper, Arthur speaks as he always does, seemingly unaffected.

Merlin’s stomach flutters. The dungeon can’t possibly be a good place, not even in modern castles. Now that Merlin thinks about it, he’s not even sure if modern castles _have_ dungeons.

“That’s where the ghost is?” he asks, following as Arthur begins to walk with a purpose.

“That’s where one of them is.” Arthur looks at Merlin with a childlike smile. “This place is crawling with them. Or so they say.”

Knowing Arthur wants to go into details, Merlin asks, “What do ‘they’ say about this particular ghost in the dungeon?”

Arthur’s smile broadens and he holds Merlin’s hand tighter as they descend a flight of stairs. “The owner of the castle was a sadistic torturer. He took pleasure in coming up with creative ways to inflict pain on his victims. At the end of the war with the Scots, he gathered all his prisoners in the courtyard and burnt them to death. The smaller children he hacked up in one of the other rooms.”

Merlin’s pulse quickens. Arthur was a brilliant storyteller even on nights that weren’t Halloween, and in places much more comfortable than eerie old castles. Here, where his low voice echoed off the stone walls, and hidden eyes seemed to watch from every shadowy corner, the effect is a thousand times better.

Merlin feels a building heat in his groin and hopes they get to the dungeon soon.

“One day, when he was making love to his girlfriend on the torture rack in the dungeon, he accidentally strangled her,” Arthur continues. “And that’s how he met his end. The girl’s father wanted vengeance, and ordered that the man be publicly hanged. As he died, people cut off pieces of him as souvenirs.”

Now they were passing through an archway, down a narrow corridor with more dust and cobwebs than any other area of the castle. The deeper they go, the more dank the air becomes. Finally, Arthur stops abruptly beside a final corner, and Merlin just knows the dungeon is right there.

Arthur spins on his heels, still holding Merlin’s hand, and looks excitedly into Merlin’s eyes. “I want you to fuck me on the torture rack.”

Merlin feels the air leave his lungs as though he’s been punched in the gut. At the same time, a rush of blood goes straight to his cock. He only spares a moment to think of the danger, briefly considering declining. But the majority of him wants to do this. He’s become just as addicted to the adrenaline as Arthur and he finds himself nodding, eager to grant Arthur’s wish.

Arthur grins and pulls Merlin around the final corner, the temperature dropping instantly. As expected, this room is the dungeon, or, more specifically, a torture chamber. Arthur lets go of Merlin’s hand to wander about the room, looking at things with a wonder in his eyes Merlin knows his own must mirror.

Merlin was relieved to find that there weren’t whole skeletons lurking here, only a few finger bones strewn about, which wasn’t all that bad. The walls hold a variety of instruments, some with long, thin blades that make Merlin’s heart race again. In one corner, there’s a chair with nails in its seat, and Merlin cringes at the thought of accidentally sitting in _that_.

Then Merlin sees the torture rack. It’s a flat, wooden construction, more like a bed frame without a mattress more than anything. What makes it interesting are the cranks located at each corner. Running a finger through the dust on the wood, Merlin notices the ropes used to restrain the victim are still in place.

Arthur must finally have ended his own personal tour around the room and noticed this as well, because he comes up behind Merlin and wraps his arms around his waist. When Arthur presses his front against him, Merlin can feel that Arthur is just as hard as he is.

“Tie me down,” Arthur whispers in his ear.

Merlin wants to—oh, does he want to—but it’s dangerous. They really shouldn’t. Merlin bites his lip and Arthur catches onto his hesitation. He slides his hand lower until he’s palming Merlin’s cock through his jeans and Merlin’s knees shake.

“It’ll be fun,” Arthur insists, adding pressure.

It’s not like any of the places they’ve visited have _really_ been haunted anyways. They’ve fucked in haunted pubs, haunted hotels, haunted barns. Nothing bad, or even remotely supernatural, has ever happened.

Merlin wets his lips and gives in with a nod. Arthur presses a kiss to Merlin’s cheek and says, “Excellent. Let’s set up then, shall we?”

Merlin’s arms and legs get that jittery, tingling feeling again. Arthur pulls himself away to undress while Merlin goes through his backpack, setting up candles around the room and lighting them. He’s still lighting candles when Arthur takes lube and the blanket from the bag, lays the blanket over the torture rack, and sits down to start opening himself up for Merlin. It’s as good as a “hurry up,” and Merlin quickly finishes the preparations to start undressing himself.

By the time Merlin’s naked, Arthur has two fingers inside himself. Steeling his nerves and telling himself _he’s doing this_ , Merlin grabs Arthur’s wrist so hard Arthur abruptly halts.

“Turn over,” Merlin says.

Arthur blinks, then smiles as Merlin’s words register. Merlin releases him so he can turn and lay on his front, arms at his side.

Merlin grabs Arthur’s wrist again and pulls it up until Arthur’s arm is outstretched above him. He ties the rope tight, but not enough to hurt, and does the same to the other.

Merlin would be lying if he said seeing Arthur like this didn’t do anything to him. His own cock is flushed and hangs heavy between his legs as he watches Arthur squirm to find a comfortable position. The curve of Arthur’s spine and arse is even more noticeable with him laid out like this, and Merlin has a sudden urge to raise his hand and slap one of the pert cheeks hard. He thinks about what happened in this very dungeon, what it would be like to take a whip to the golden expanse of skin before him.

Merlin doesn’t slap Arthur’s arse, but what he does do is trail a finger down the line of Arthur’s back, the touch light and teasing. When he gets down to the base of Arthur’s spine, Arthur pushes up on his knees, raising his arse as he strains for more.

“If I’d known you like seeing me tied up so much, we would have done this much earlier,” Arthur remarks in an effort at banter. The effort is pointless because Merlin can hear the breathlessness in his voice.

Merlin’s lips twitch as his smile widens just a bit. He feels the atmosphere of the room affecting him, making him want to do the naughtiest things to Arthur’s body where it’s laid bare and vulnerable. The candlelight throws shadows on the walls, the metal instruments seeming that much more menacing as their shapes seem to elongate.

Just as Arthur turns his head and opens his mouth—almost certainly to complain—Merlin grabs Arthur’s ankle and yanks it towards him. Arthur’s mouth clamps shut with an audible snap.

Merlin wrenches Arthur’s legs open and finally climbs over the side of the rack, positioning himself between the newly emptied space. The wooden slats are hard on his knees, but he ignores the pain and picks up the lube to finish what Arthur started.

Opening Arthur up, Merlin starts to feel a little giddy, like a mad scientist performing an experiment. Every time Arthur’s breath hitches from Merlin’s fingers hitting the right spot, Merlin counts it as a success. He finds Arthur’s prostate again and again, abusing it until Arthur is writhing pleasantly beneath him.

It’s only when Arthur moans his name that Merlin shows mercy. He pulls his fingers out and stands up to complete the job of binding Arthur down. He ties the final two ropes around Arthur’s ankles and turns the cranks to tighten their hold.

Glancing up at Arthur as he applies lube to his cock, Merlin sees that Arthur is trembling a bit. Merlin loves this part of their adventures, even if the prelude is a little unnerving. What they’re about to do is sweetly forbidden and it turns Merlin on like nothing else.

Merlin crawls back up and nudges Arthur’s knees as far apart as the restraints will allow. He hovers over Arthur, teasing him with his cock sliding in the furrow of Arthur’s arse, and leans forward to ask, “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Arthur answers hoarsely, raising his arse impatiently. “Come on.”

Once Arthur has given consent, it’s begun. Merlin shoves in mercilessly and Arthur makes a filthy noise that Merlin never wants to forget.

He sets a slow pace at first, but it’s hard, rough, and makes the rack slide across the stone floor. He’s unforgiving in the way he fucks Arthur, completely drunk on the sinister atmosphere. He wants to make Arthur feel so good it hurts, wants to show Arthur his own creative form of torture.

And as he speeds up, snapping his hips and grunting from the effort, that’s exactly what he does. He’s so familiar with Arthur’s body and the way it moves, he knows exactly where Arthur’s prostate is. He could give Arthur the pleasure he so obviously desires, but he doesn’t. He places one hand on Arthur’s hip and one on his shoulder for leverage and thrusts in so deep his balls slap against Arthur’s. His cock slides in and out of Arthur’s clenching arse, the inner ring of muscle hugging as tightly as the ropes that bind Arthur’s limbs.

It’s not long before Arthur is begging, trying to push back onto Merlin’s cock no matter how secure he’s bound. He looks wanton and greedy, and still Merlin doesn’t give him enough.

“Merlin... _fuck_ , Merlin, please...So close...”

Merlin knows what Arthur wants. He knows that one, maybe two strokes of Arthur’s cock will push him over the edge. Leaning forward, Merlin releases his hold on Arthur’s hip and shoulder to prop himself up, and brings his mouth to Arthur’s ear. He traces the shell with the tip of his tongue, then sucks the lobe, knowing it’ll drive Arthur crazy.

Arthur whines high in his throat and his arms fight against their restraints. The sight makes Merlin nearly come apart and he bites down a little, making Arthur whine again. Merlin focuses on holding off a moment, then slides a hand underneath Arthur, running it up his stomach and back down, always nearing Arthur’s cock but never granting him his final wish.

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur growls, resorting to anger.

Merlin chuckles in Arthur’s ear and finally wraps his fingers around Arthur’s cock. It’s a solid rod of warm velvet in his hand, and as he starts to stroke, the rhythm of his own cock falters. But by now, he’s close again, and he knows it’s only a matter of seconds before they both erupt.

Merlin thinks maybe it’s the adrenaline that finally does it. Everything is hypersensitive and intense; the fact that someone died having sex on this same rack is thrilling. As the effect of what they’re doing hits him again, the pleasure in Merlin’s groin builds and builds until it can build no more. Merlin’s balls tighten and, moaning loudly, his orgasm bursts into Arthur, who comes right after Merlin’s hand squeezes his cock.

Merlin collapses with a heavy exhale. The adrenaline is still there, but he’s tired and spent. Arthur pants just as heavily beneath him. It’s when they’re catching their breath that Arthur suddenly screams and his limbs are pulled taut. A gust of wind has blown out all the candles.

“Ow, ow, Merlin! Merlin, stop!” Arthur yells frantically.

Merlin pulls out, scrambles to his feet, and shouts, “I’m not doing anything!”

There’s a creaking sound and Arthur howls in pain again. Merlin’s heart pounds against his ribcage as he panics, and he rushes forward to untie the rope.

His hands are shaking so badly he can’t get a good grip on the knot. When he chances a look at Arthur, he sees Arthur’s eyes wide with fright like he’s never seen before. At the same time, Arthur’s face is contorted with pain, and Merlin would do anything to make that expression disappear.

As he looks back to the knot—how the hell did he even do this?—he notices the crank spinning on its own. Instantly, Merlin freezes, Arthur’s screams ringing in his ears.

The crank only keeps turning as Merlin watches, pulling on Arthur’s limbs until Merlin is sure they’re going to pop from their sockets.

“MERLIN!”

Merlin snaps back to attention. With new determination, he goes at the rope. Tugging and yanking until finally it starts to loosen. Arthur still whimpers in pain, but he’s not going to die, he _won’t_. Merlin won’t let him.

Just as Arthur’s screams reach a whole new level of shrill, Merlin gets the knot undone, and Arthur pulls his hand free. He runs around to the other side as quickly as he can, but based on Arthur’s sudden silence, the automatic turn of the crank has stopped.

Merlin can’t get Arthur unrestrained fast enough, but when he does, he pulls Arthur up and touches him all over, making sure he’s unhurt. After a moment of inspection, he sees that Arthur is shaking, but otherwise fine, and is, in fact, laughing.

Merlin gapes only a second before slapping the back of Arthur’s head. “You clotpole, you could have died!”

Arthur reins in his laughter, but he’s still smiling, eyes shining bright with excitement. He leans forward, grabbing Merlin’s shoulders and says, “That was brilliant, Merlin! Did you see that? It was ghost, a _real_ ghost! Finally, we’ve found a place that’s actually haunted.”

Merlin shakes his head. “You’ve gone mental. We should leave before it gets too dark.”

“No way. We’re staying the night, as planned.”

Merlin sighs because he knows it’s no use arguing. Even though Arthur was two seconds away from being torn limb from limb, he still wants to stay and mess with the castle’s spirits. Nothing Merlin says could possibly change Arthur’s mind.

“Fine,” Merlin acquiesces. “But I don’t like it.”


	2. Chapter 2

They walk back to where they’ve left their bags, and after a bit of dinner, they explore more of the castle. Arthur takes photos, telling Merlin where to hold the lantern when it gets dark. As they navigate the hallways that Arthur claims even more emphatically are haunted, he tells Merlin more stories about the things that happened there. He even sucks Merlin’s cock in the same room where children were hacked up by the castle’s owner, despite the awful smell.

It’s nine in the evening when Arthur suggests they settle down for the night. Gathering his belongings, Merlin follows Arthur through a corridor they’ve already been down and into what Arthur mentioned earlier was called the Pink Bedroom. He said nothing else about the chamber, but Merlin knows Arthur has chosen this room to sleep in for a reason.

Setting his bags down and placing the lantern on an endtable, Merlin asks. “So what’s so special about this room?”

Arthur smiles like he was just waiting for Merlin to ask, which he probably was. He lets his bags fall to the floor in a slump then sits in an old dusty chair, propping his feet up on the table next to him.

“Supposedly, at the stroke of midnight, the sound of a young boy screaming in terror can be heard through the walls,” he says. “When it stops, the boy appears, dressed in blue and surrounded by a bright blue aura, and approaches the bed.”

Merlin looks at the four poster bed beside him. The duvet is a rosy pink, and greying with age. They’ve brought their own change of bed clothing—they’re practically professionals at having sex and sleeping in haunted houses by now; they’re not stupid—so it’s not the prospect of sleeping there that irks him. It’s something else he can’t put his finger on, something the haunted beds before didn’t have.

“Isn’t it illegal to have sex in front of a child?” Merlin teases, knowing exactly what Arthur plans to do.

Arthur laughs. “I don’t think any officers will come knocking this time.”

Merlin tugs on a corner of the duvet, preparing to pull it off so they can replace it with their own. “What’d you want to do until midnight?”

Arthur only thinks a moment before clapping his hands together. “It wouldn’t be Halloween without sweets. You brought them right?”

“Of course,” Merlin says with a grin.

He goes to his backpack and pulls out the various treats he’s brought: jelly babies, jammie dodgers, and white chocolate candy skulls.

Bringing it to the table, Merlin goes right for the white chocolate, while Arthur attacks the biscuits. For a few moments, the only sound is the crackle of paper and moans that, for once, aren’t sexual. Then there’s laughter, as Arthur dips his hand into Merlin’s bag and Merlin retaliates by snatching a few biscuits.

“Eat some of the jelly babies and stop stealing my chocolate, you prat,” Merlin says, throwing a little white skull at Arthur’s nose.

“I hate those gummy things,” Arthur replies, popping the skull that’s fallen into his lap in his mouth. “I don’t know why you always buy them.”

“Because they’re _cheap_. And they last a long time.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, so Merlin is forced to tear open the bag and start on them himself. As the fruity flavour hits his taste buds, Merlin thinks it’s really a shame how much he does for Arthur, getting nothing in return.

When Arthur sits back and groans, rubbing his stomach, Merlin decides he ought to stop before the same feeling of sickness reaches him. He stands up and goes to ready the bed, stripping it of the pink duvet and sheets, and adding their own. Across the room, Arthur checks the time on his mobile.

“Almost ten,” he declares, then sets the phone down. “Want to watch something?”

Merlin finishes fixing the bed and nods. He lays back against the headboard as Arthur rummages through his bag for his iPad. When Arthur settles down beside him and queues up the film, it’s easy to forget they’re in a castle where numerous tragedies have taken place. Merlin gets sucked into the world being played out on the screen, only thinking about the possibility of ghosts in the real world when he shivers from the cold occasionally.

By the time the film ends, it’s just past half eleven. Arthur shuts the iPad off and sets it aside to pick up his camera. He stands up and smiles as he points it toward where Merlin is yawning and stretching on bed. Merlin knows what comes next, and his stomach flutters with anticipation.

Arthur doesn’t have to say a word. Merlin takes his arms out of his jacket, and as he slowly undresses, Arthur begins to snap photos.

Arthur loves capturing Merlin naked in haunted places. Merlin was actually a little surprised Arthur hadn’t wanted to photograph him lying naked on the torture rack in the dungeon, though after what happened—or _nearly_ happened—Merlin can understand why Arthur wanted to get out of there so quickly. He’d wanted to as well.

Arthur’s making up for it now though. He takes photos of Merlin with his limbs stretched out, spine arched; a couple of Merlin leaning against one of the bedposts; some with Merlin on his hands and knees, arse up to expose his entrance and hanging balls; more with Merlin laying on his back, his legs open in invitation as he fists his cock.

Time is running short though, and soon it’s a quarter ‘til midnight. Arthur sets the camera down, pulls off his own clothes as if they’re physically weighing on him, and climbs onto the bed. He drops his whole body on top of Merlin, pinning him down and bringing their lips together for a deep kiss.

Arthur slots their legs together, and they grind against each other, chasing perfect friction. Merlin runs his hands over each stretch of skin he can reach, occasionally adding pressure to pull Arthur closer. He inhales sharply when Arthur’s hand wraps around both their cocks, and he’s so lost in Arthur’s body that he forgets they’re not in their comfortable flat.

When Arthur pulls away to reach for lube and moves down to work Merlin open, Merlin lays back and takes in the surroundings as if coming up for air, remembering where they are. As Arthur’s fingers breach him, he lets the forbiddenness creep under his skin again. It feels like eyes of the dead watch him from the shadows, and the wind blowing outside sounds like a collective sigh of disapproval.

Pulse quickening, Merlin’s skin prickles with excitement. Arthur’s fingers pump more forcefully into him, and Merlin moans, feeling like he’s putting on a show for the disapproving lingering souls of the castle. He chuckles a little, amused by the knowledge that what they’re doing might be ticking off a few ghosts.

When he catches Arthur’s eye, Arthur is grinning just as madly, and he sees that Arthur feels the same exhilaration he does. Merlin is glad he decided to stay and do this after all, despite the fright from earlier.

As Arthur enters him, Merlin watches their shadows join on the ceiling. He wonders if it’s almost midnight. A feeling in his gut tells him it must be close, and he moans again as Arthur bottoms out inside him. Arthur’s hands grab Merlin’s legs and raise them up higher, until they’re perpendicular above the bed. Merlin places his arms over his head and shifts some weight to his shoulders, angling himself and clenching around Arthur’s cock in an effort to get him to start already.

Arthur wets his lips and begins thrusting, hands positioned firmly in the crook of Merlin’s knees. Merlin breathes deeply, basking in the slow slide of Arthur’s cock inside him. Despite the cold, he’s already sweating, and as Arthur goes faster, harder, a film of perspiration appears on Arthur’s face as well.

For a while, it’s just fucking, indulging in base desires with moans and grunts that Merlin is sure offend the castle’s spiritual inhabitants. Merlin’s limbs are numb with pleasure and he feels more alive than ever. But then, just as Arthur’s rhythm begins to falter and Merlin tugs on his cock to hurry his orgasm along, there’s a shriek of terror that rattles Merlin’s bones.

Merlin feels like he’s been electrified. Arthur’s pace slows considerably, but he doesn’t stop, even as the screaming goes on. Merlin’s heart hammers in his chest, and it isn’t until Arthur lets go of Merlin’s legs and leans forward to bring their chests together that he realises his fingers have dug into the skin of Arthur’s thighs.

Arthur kisses him until the screaming ends, calming him, but even then Merlin can hear it ringing in his ears, a thousand times more disturbing than when Arthur yelled in the dungeon. Arthur distracts Merlin by snapping his hips, ramming into Merlin’s prostate, and by wrapping strong fingers around Merlin’s cock, stroking him as he thrusts.

Merlin hasn’t forgotten Arthur’s story, though. A small part of him is scared of the young boy appearing. But with Arthur holding him, fucking him so hard his vision has gone blurry, most of what Merlin feels is excitement. As the lantern flickers on and off, Merlin feels his pleasure peaking, warmth spreading up his thighs and higher into his groin until he finally comes, eyes squeezing shut.

Gasping for breath, Merlin’s on a cloud. His body rocks against the mattress a few seconds longer as Arthur continues to pound into him, but then everything is still, and Arthur spills deep inside. Merlin doesn’t open his eyes, not even when Arthur pulls out with a satisfied grunt. It’s only when Arthur gasps, and a bright blue light becomes visible through his eyelids that he blinks open.

Merlin’s heart stops and he gapes. There’s a young boy standing a few metres from the end of the bed, maybe nine years old and wearing a faded blue night shirt that reaches his knees. His lips are thin and chapped, his skin alabaster white and radiating a blue aura. His eyes are blank, grey and lifeless, and seem to be staring directly at Merlin.

Merlin sits up and grabs Arthur’s hand as the boy begins to walk forward. Merlin doesn’t know how far the boy will walk—Arthur’s story just said he approaches the bed—but he doesn’t want to be on the bed a second longer. He scrambles off, pulling a wide-eyed Arthur with him.

The boy’s head turns, his eyes following Merlin. Merlin is frozen in place, and his heart beats quickly in his chest, even though it feels like bony hands have grabbed hold of it and started squeezing. Merlin tries to swallow, but can’t. He doesn’t even think he’s breathing.

The boy continues to approach the bed until finally the lower half of his body goes through it. As he walks toward the headboard, and, essentially, the wall, his head keeps turning, his eyes staying pinned on Merlin. Merlin doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not frightened anymore. He edges closer to Arthur and holds his hand tighter.

And then the boy is gone, disappeared through the solid stone. Arthur turns slowly, eyes wide, and says, “Did you see that? That was amazing!”

Merlin tries to hide his trembling. He can still see the blank eyes of the boy staring at him, seeming to want something from him. Merlin wants to get out of the castle as quickly as possible. It feels like if they stay a minute longer, they won’t be able to get out at all.

“Can we leave now?” Merlin asks.

Arthur looks at him curiously, then half his face twitches up in a grin. “You scared?”

“No!” Merlin replies angrily. “I just...It wasn’t _you_ he was looking at...”

Arthur tilts his head, looking at Merlin strangely again, then shrugs. “We can sleep in the car if you want, but it’s past midnight now so nothing else will happen.” The way Arthur says it makes it seem like he wishes something else _would_ happen. “We might as well spend the rest of the night in bed.”

Merlin doesn’t want to sleep in the car; he wants to get off the entire property _now_. But he’s also exhausted and he knows Arthur must be, too. He’s too tired to drive and he certainly can’t ask that of Arthur. The only option seems to be to go to sleep.

And the bed _is_ more comfortable than the seats in the car.

“Okay,” Merlin gives in. Arthur kisses his cheek and nudges him toward the bed. Merlin turns out the lantern, slips into his pants, and gets under the duvet, wiping come from his stomach. Arthur brings a handful of chocolate skulls as a thank you when he joins him.

Merlin is asleep before Arthur runs out of chocolate to feed him. He sleeps a heavy, dreamless sleep, and wakes up shivering from the cold. He blinks a few times as he remembers where they are, what happened the night before. Even in the light of day, the castle seems to crush him with its omniscience.

When Merlin thinks he hears the rustling of fabric—that most definitely isn’t the duvet—he starts to shake Arthur awake.

Arthur groans and opens his eyes slowly. “Wha?”

“Arthur, wake up,” Merlin urges.

Arthur rubs his eyes with his knuckles. “You couldn’t let me sleep a little longer?”

“Can we leave now?”

Merlin must look more frightened than he means to, because Arthur frowns and nods too quickly. “Yeah, alright. Sure. Let’s get dressed.”

Merlin dresses quickly, then strips the bed while Arthur packs up their belongings. Not even fifteen minutes have passed before they’re walking through the corridor, toward sunshine and fresh air.

Merlin doesn’t spare the creepy artwork or white cobwebs a single glance. He keeps his eyes fixed on the back of Arthur’s head where he walks a few paces in front of him. They’re nearly at the entrance—so close to the freedom of the outside world—when Merlin feels cold, spindly fingers wrap around his wrist, and his bag drops from his hand.

Arthur doesn’t notice. He keeps walking while Merlin stands frozen to his spot. Merlin looks down at his wrist—slowly, fearing what he’ll find there—and sees the pale fingers of a woman holding onto him.

Merlin twists his neck quickly to look behind him. He’s met with the face of a young, fragile-looking woman in white, her dress billowy and just as translucent as she is.

 _“Stay with us,”_ she says, her lips forming the words gracefully. Her voice is soft as the wind, as musical as a melody. _“Stay with us.”_

Merlin feels weaker the longer she has hold of him. He feels his will to leave diminishing, his life sapped from his body. Hearing the front door creak as Arthur opens it, Merlin jerks his hand free. The woman vanishes, and the only thing that convinces Merlin she was ever there is the feeling of being watched that doesn’t quite leave.

“Merlin? Are you coming?”

Merlin spins around and sees Arthur standing in the doorway, staring at him expectantly.

“Yeah, sorry.”

Merlin bends to pick up his bag, but stops. There’s a handprint on his wrist, light purple against his otherwise ivory skin. Merlin pulls his jacket sleeve down and hopes it fades away before Arthur has a chance to see it. Picking up his bag, he runs the rest of the way down the hall to where Arthur waits for him.

“Do you know where we’re going next Halloween?” Merlin asks as they drive away from the castle. “Any ideas?”

They enter the tunnel of trees, and Arthur shrugs. “I dunno. The whole thing is starting to lose its appeal, to be honest. I think next year we’ll stay home, watch some films. Or maybe go to one of those parties Gwaine keeps inviting us to.”

Arthur glances at him from the driver’s seat, obviously expecting some sort of reaction. Merlin _is_ a bit surprised, though not entirely. After this trip, he’s certainly had enough of haunted places. Even so, he can’t help but experience some sense of loss.

Merlin nods, smiling, but feels like part of him is still back at the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ghost story information from [here](http://www.real-british-ghosts.com/chillingham-castle-ghosts.html).
> 
> Title taken from lyrics in "[This is Halloween](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jU6iP0WLsU8)."


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